The Boy Who Tried To Capture The Stars
by rosettique
Summary: The first time they stargazed, it was a magical thing, and they were hopeful children. The second time, only pain kept them alive. (Rated M for good measure).
1. Chapter 1

**The Boy Who Tried To Capture The Stars**

* * *

There were three of them that night.

The first, with a boyish grin and bright, glinting eyes – hard to miss, harder even to forget; with eyebrows that have yet to furrow permanently into an angry frown; with passion dashing through him; with liquid determination flowing through his veins.

The second, with grace and a sharp edge; with precision to her movements and cold efficiency to her words; with thoughtfulness, compassion and care imbued so deeply within her, swimming in her eyes, but only channeled to one person – two, at most; with a bond so sincere, attached to her only person in the world, that if one broke so would the other.

The third, with a bounce to his steps and intelligence igniting his being, soft as a candle yet empowering as the sun; with caution and fear blowing out his candle and clouding his sun; with majestic, sweeping hand gestures – limbs waving about as he rambled endearingly about the worlds beyond; with all his trust, given to the boy with the emerald eyes and the once-in-a-century prodigy.

They were infallible under the stars.

_Blink, blink, blink_. _Blink_.

None of them talked. There were no petty attempts at conversation, only three children, braving icy waters and jagged rocks as they tumble down the cliff of life to wander amongst the galaxies.

They were enthralled by the trails of silver splashed across the night sky – the very ones that seemed to be inviting them to explore what laid beyond the horizon.

The brazen one told a story about a boy who tried to capture the attention of the stars. They were pretty, and they were there, so he set his sights upon them. But they were always beyond his reach. There was always the moon present, leeching off the might of his prize. Or the clouds – they did that sometimes, hinder him from the incandescent drops of glitter, from what was rightfully his.

He laughed then – not because it was silly to try and mesmerize the stars – oh, no. He laughed because he thought the boy stupid for failing.


	2. Chapter 2

There were two of them when dawn infiltrated the heavens.

Eren came to with half his face pressed against a scratchy, wooden surface. He rubbed his eyes and stifled his yawn so as to not wake Armin up. He was sore all over – his neck ached from lying crooked on the desk throughout the night, his arm was numb from pillowing his head and his back felt like it could do with a thousand stretches.

He stood up gently - lifting his chair up instead of raking it against the floor – and looped his hands behind him before pulling himself backwards. His spine popped, not once or twice but several times, and it felt pleasant.

There was a bed beside him – his bed, which he didn't sleep in because Armin had insisted on stealing all his space. Fair skin stirred underneath a thin sheet of cloth.

Eren inched closer and crouched down to Armin's level for a better look. He wanted to burn the image before him into his memories, never to be forgotten. He wanted to trace each strand of Armin's ethereal hair and feel the contours of his cheekbones and remember how Armin had kicked him out of bed, if only to guilt the blonde into making it up to him.

He smiled, devilish, already thinking of all the things he could do to the poor boy. Later, though.

Now, he only needed Armin.

Eren sought out Armin's hand beneath the cover and intertwined their fingers, as if filling each others' spaces was the only right thing in the world.

There was more sun now, tapering through the windows.

In a while, Eren fell asleep, this time by Armin's side, against the adamant protests of his muscles.

His head laid crooked again, on the bed. His spine was curved as he needed to adjust to the height of the mattress. His arm was unavailable, for his fingers were threading through Armin's.


	3. Chapter 3

There was one of them when the sun was dethroned.

He was there, on the ground, his white shirt rumpled and his pants creased with dirt. Eren wondered how he got there. Crimson blossomed on his abdomen - a shade too dark, a shade too real. Eren thought it looked different than it did in Armin's book. In the pictures, it was neat and pretty. This was one horrid mess, a grotesque mixture of mangled limbs and ruptured bellies.

"Hey," he whispered.

It was a flutter of a word, like eyelashes against cheek in the morning and butterflies taking flight, covering more distance with each passing second and Eren was rooted to the spot, unable to take chase.

They were slow, and he was so close, and they were there, but he couldn't move.

"Hey," he repeated, the word coming out in a painful croak.

"Eren," the slightest sliver of a breath.

Eren swallowed, choked down the grime and bile. He shut his eyes willfully, praying for stars to shoot out of his eyelids when he reopened them.

Instead, all he saw was red.

"Armin?"

He kneeled. The battle, although dwindling, raged on around them.

"Armin."

The boy lifted the corners of his lips, so that they formed a weak smile. His eyes, previously closed, slowly started to open. The piercing blue was glazed with pain and Eren felt like the air in his lungs were crushing him from the inside.

Armin tried to raise a hand, but found that he hadn't the strength to. He let out a breath of air, like a tame scoff, like his final mockery of the world. Eren saw his fingers twitching inwards, as if beckoning him.

He understood what Armin wanted, bent his back so he his face was directly above Armin's, didn't care that he was totally exposed, would've let himself die there, with Armin.

"Yes?"

"Don't- don't cry, Eren."

Somehow, the smile widened as he said that. Eren could feel Armin's thumb, from another time, wiping his tears away. Eren could feel a crass hand, a contrast to Armin's softness, squeezing his nape, soothing him.

So Eren did what Armin could not do for him – Eren lifted Armin's hands and dragged his thumb over the falling tears.

Armin's grip tightened in his hand. Eren understood what it meant and gingerly helped Armin off the ground, and into his embrace.

Armin had his eyes closed and Eren didn't know it was possible for him to understand what someone else meant by the tightening of his hand before today – didn't think it was possible again, after today.

A grunt escaped Armin's mouth, yet still, he said, "It doesn't hurt. It'll pass, in a while."

Eren said nothing, only buried his face into the crook of Armin's neck and inhaled his scent while he still could and sobbed harder. He had no time for rose or whatever-scented perfumes but he would like a bottle of Armin's scent to spray over his sheets, so when he cried it would feel like Armin was right there comforting him.

"Eren."

"Eren," Armin wheezed once more when he failed to catch the brunette's attention the first time.

"Eren, look up. The stars. Look, they're so pretty. Eren, be happy, okay? For me. Win the war, okay? Don't die. Don't join me too soon."

He attempted a chuckle at his ill-timed joke, but sputtered out blood instead.

Eren roused from his place between Armin's scent, alarmed by the sick gurgling of blood and the scarlet-laden bubbles popping out of Armin's mouth.

"Eren, promise me."

He shook his head.

Armin frowned, his eyebrows dipping down in the slightest way, "Promise, Eren. Please."

He shook his head again.

Armin coughed up more blood. Knowing how much of a stubborn brat Eren could be, he turned away from Eren's puffy face and faced the stars, wishing to ingrain them in his thoughts before leaving, feeling sorry that he had never took the time to study them properly.

Then, the smile was back, but in it was grief.

"Ah, not even granting me my final wish. You've always been selfish."

_He was teasing_, Eren thought. _He was dying, and he was teasing._

"Armin," Eren breathed through a round of hiccups, grasping onto the name like he was drowning and it was the only buoy in the sea.

"Armin, don't go."

For the first time since his mother died, Eren sounded like a child again.

"I'm not going anywhere, Eren."

He knew he had no more energy for continuous bouts of coughs and he was probably going to start choking on his own blood soon.

"Eren, look at me."

Blue met green, both vivid in their own aspects.

"I love you."

Eren didn't even get to tell Armin _I love you, too_ before he passed away.


End file.
